The roiling of the sheer amount of confusion was only just now receding. There seemed to be nothing more than an inky blackness around anything, and all one could see was perhaps themselves. There could not be anything more terrifying than not being able to see anything other than oneself. A single light shone down upon the person that was stuck here in this place of sorts. It was a warm light, something that might become stifling if it was stood under for too long. There was a small, persistent voice that was ringing through the resounding silence. It was almost something that could not really be understood, if only for the fact that its volume was nearly nonexistant. As time went on, though, the small voice got louder, bit by bit, and eventually, the first miniscule words started to take form, even if they were not something that really made sense if one were just waking up.

"...ey.... yo.... ka.... e up.... lo?"

The spotlight did not shift its focus from the one person that it was keeping its light on. Perhaps it was something that would follow the person, if it even began to budge. At this rate, it looked quite hopeless. Time still went on, and the voice began getting louder. The words also got clearer as the volume increased.

"Hello? Are you there?"

The source of the voice was still yet to be seen, but the only possible responder was the person under the spotlight, and as of the current moment, they looked as if they weren't getting up for quite some time. The voice continued to badger, but it all seemed to be useless. The person had to wake up on their own volition; no one outside source would bring them back to life. They had to decide for themselves that they wanted to wake up. All anyone could do was just wait.

In the murk she felt as if a blade had found perfect purchase in her chest––a terrible coldness grasped her heart tightly. Could steel have snickered her heart so? This place certainly felt like death to her. Although... could it really be death if she still breathed in the inky darkness like refreshing air? No, she decided, taking in another breath of the shadows as she laid in the strange spotlight amidst the black. Death would not be so cold. Not if the blade had already licked her mortal skin and rent her soul from her body. If that had already happened, death would be warmth. This is not death, she reaffirmed to herself, still not stirring from her position in the light. Not death, but something else.

The voice further confirmed that ideal. Although, at first, unclear and distant, she knew as it continued to call her that it would grow clearer. And when she finally heard its message for her, two cobalt-colored eyes snapped open and remained fixed on the light shining down on her. Ashe remained perfectly still for several minutes before sitting up and closing her eyes once more; her right hand found a spot on her heart which, although physically fine, still beat with that enigmatic coldness. As if she had truly be licked by death's steel. "If this is not death," she began firmly, "then explain."

The murkiness began to retract as the woman spoke and began to rise. There was a hint of some flashing lights, but other than the bright spotlight, nothing was truly clear. Given that and the fact that perhaps this woman could not even remember her name. They had utterly shattered what she might have been on the inside from the outside, and it would be their job to attempt to liberate her. In fact, there were three others like her, all going through these same motions of revival. Would she be kept in the dark for longer than she had to, or would she swiftly recover and break free from this prison that held her? The voice knew all, but it would never reveal. A masculine tone came from all around the woman, permeating the murkiness and making it retract further. As it did, the spotlight that shone on the woman also seemed to dim.

"Ashe. Ashe Valentine."

The voice spoke her name, and the instant he did, the spotlight was gone, and the blackness faded away and melted into a sea of lights and sounds... but with no other apparent life but herself. There were a variety of theme park rides and concession stands littered about the fairly expansive ground, and everything was lit up, as if this were a parody of what a normal day might have been like on the outside. It was so accurate that trash littered the ground as if people had just been through here, and yet, there was not a soul to be seen or heard, other than the kneeling woman in the center of the fairground.

"There are some things that cannot be explained: for example, how you have gotten here. There are many different places one can go, but eventually, all paths lead to Lakeview. Can you leave? Can you stay? All is tossed into the air for chance, only you will roll the dice at the end of the day."

After the voice disappeared, a particular piece of litter fluttered in a small breeze, flowing towards the woman crinkling all the way there. It hit her leg, face up, blaring bold letters and a picture of a smiling family in front of a large Ferris wheel, a body of water not far behind. It stated "WELCOME TO LAKEVIEW".

Ashe snatched the flyer from its caught position on her leg and stared at it with clear distaste before crumpling it and shoving it in her dress pocket. "Very well," she muttered begrudgingly, setting her cobalt eyes on the scene that opened up before her. Though she was not, herself, fully familiar with the scene, it felt oddly resonate within her to some degree. The way the trash littered the ground and the fairway gathered around her seemed curiously familiar, almost as if she had been to such a place before, but, truth be told, that was an impossibility. She had no such memory.

Although... come to think of it... she didn't have much memory at all. Undeterred by this, she stood and instantly started walking further into the ground. Her eyes remained locked on the path before her. "I'm going to find my own then." she stated just in case the voice was listening.

And so the woman did go, she went to begin what might be her last journey as herself, in order to find what this mysterious voice had in store for her. The riddle that he had spoken still seemed to permeate through the atmosphere, glowing in an odd script and standing apart from everything else. It was almost if those words he spoke were... alive in some way. But that could not be possible, could it? Surely, that would have to be a dream, to have living words everywhere one went... but was this really life? Was this woman really alive? Or was she trapped in a plane of subexistence, where everything she did, she did in farce, doomed to wallow in ether for the remainder of her days.

As she walked down the crowded alley, two clowns came from behind some large stands. One could hear their shrieking laughter and see the glittering metal as they threw knives between their paper-white hands. An easy fight? We can only see.

Atmosphere:Surreal: "This does not feel legitimate. Are you walking in a dream?" Physical damage output is decreased by 10%. Magical damage output is increased by 10%. Cycle Mana effectiveness is increased by 5%!

She paid the glowing, veritably living words little mind as she took her first steps. All for the better, she believed, to ignore them as she had not a single recollection of the language. That and thinking about it caused that same familiar pang in her heart and head. Pushing it from her mind, Ashe continued onward until two clowns appeared before her; shrieking as they were, she knew something had gone awry here. She drew her blade––they most certainly were not her allies.

Atmosphere:Surreal: "This does not feel legitimate. Are you walking in a dream?" Magical damage output is decreased by 10%. Physical damage output is increased by 10%. Cycle Mana effectiveness is increased by 5%!

Ashe casts Flametongue! Ashe's Basic Attacks become of the Fire Elemental! Ashe's Basic Attacks gain a Low Chance of Burn! Ashe may act as a Fire Source in various situations!Remaining MP: 14/20

Instead of drawing closer to the strange jesters, Ashe merely grasped her blade tight in hand. Truth be told she barely remembered the basic strokes, but the weapon felt right in her hand––it felt as if it belonged. But something still felt wrong. Unable to truly place it, she merely forced her determination into the blade. She would unlock her own secrets. And in moments that determination flourished as flame suddenly danced upon the blade, enveloping it but not melting it. She gave it a swing.